


Wasteland

by stillgoldie1899



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Hogwarts Fifth Year, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillgoldie1899/pseuds/stillgoldie1899
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Written sometime circa 2004, completed, but copied and pasted unedited.) Where do you go, to hide from yourself, and your life? For Draco, the answer could be found in a needle, the dimly numbing daze of heroin, an escape from everything everyone wanted him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I still believe in God, but God no longer believes in me."  
~Wasteland, by the Mission

 

His entire world was focused on the candle flame. The spoon hovering above it bubbled as he watched with a calm eye. He had done this before, hundreds of times, mastered the art of balancing the candlestick on a stack of school books on his bed. He dropped a piece of cotton in the spoon, filled the syringe, tested it, and put it down on the green velvet comforter. His left arm was already bare, his belt tight against the upper part of it, the end of the belt in his teeth. It didn't take much time to tap up a vein. A sharp point of pain, and then the rush. An instant rush, the kind charms or potions never created. It was wonderful.

His father would probably disown him if he could see him doing drugs, Muggle drugs at that. He would say,

"A Malfoy has to need of escape. A Malfoy is strong."

Draco was, then, a patch of wood rot on his family tree.

"Good shit, mum, really good shit." Draco managed to mutter before falling over backwards, thanking something he'd put the candle out, or his whole bed would be in flames, and he wouldn't care. Eyes closed, back arched slightly, he couldn't quite brush one question from his mind. It hovered around the edges of his head, making oblivion impossible.

Exactly how had he gotten this bad? (Not that heroin was bad, oh no, heroin was perfect, heroin made everything shiny, happy and good.)

It started summer before first year, when his father had gone crazy. Everyone knew the famous Harry Potter was going to come back to the wizarding world at some point, but the idea never really seemed to hit Lucius until he heard Potter would be starting at Hogwarts just as Draco would. The boy who had caused the fall of the Dark Lord was going to be in the same class as the son of his most faithful follower. So, as to prepare him, Draco had been put through a summer of relative hell. "Training" his father called it, and it left Draco feeling rather like a rung-out rag. Curses and poisons and trips down Knockturn Alley should have made him happy. Lucius was finally treating Draco like he was grown up, sharing snippets of plans, teaching him how to best trim exotic and deadly plants. All it did, though, was make Draco more unhappy then he already was. After the novelty wore off, Draco began to see the holes in the promises made by his father. He had his pride as a pureblood, that was true, and he agreed that magic needed to stay in magical families, but the point of actually killing Muggles was lost on him. If he was in charge, he would simply isolate the wizarding world further. All the underhanded pseudo-evil was dashing in storybooks, but in reality, it just seemed cowardly.

The true problem for Draco lay in the few acts of outright aggression he saw his father succumb to. Draco was a bitter, angry boy for reasons even he couldn't comprehend, and the venue to mindlessly lash out was a huge temptation. It was, however, a temptation that also made Draco sick. Thanks to his stoic upbringing, Draco rarely allowed himself to attack others in blind anger. Rather, he bottled it and cooled it, making it last longer, its sting harsher. His was almost always a carefully planned attack. He learned at a young age that to show emotions was weak. That was why he beat himself up inside more then his father ever could. Draco silently agreed with everything Potter and the other Gryffindors said and thought about him. Who was he kidding? The whole school thought the same about him. Lucius Malfoy's bratty son. He was weak, he was useless, the only things he had were bribed for him by his father. There was no point in his existence at all, he was nothing. Nothing.

Until he discovered opiates.

He hadn't been expecting the first taste of morphine, there was just something odd about his juice one evening, and when he looked at his mother, she gave him that sad look she always did, nodded at the juice and turned to talk to Father. That was how Draco made it through that last summer before Hogwarts. School was blessedly far away from Lucius and his little plans and impromptu classes in Muggle torture. He forgot about needing morphine that school year, but when summer came, he still had to go home, still had to face his father.

Draco managed it well, those summers at home. His mother, who had always been a sad, ghost-like presence in his young life, became his silent provider of liquid escape. It was a fluidly moving plan, like clockwork. That all changed after Fourth Year, when Lord Voldemort came back.

Draco came home from Hogwarts to a house full of excited Death Eaters. His father was in rare form, and for the first time Draco was dragged along as his father caused petty chaos in the Muggle world, always in masks, always at night. Lucius started demanding perfection, drilling Draco in harder curses, always reminding him that when Draco graduated from Hogwarts he would be sworn over to the Dark Lord, and he couldn't make a single mistake in front of Lord Voldemort or risk losing the Malfoy's place in the hierarchy.

The pure pressure caused Draco's morphine intake to rocket up, from a mixed glass at night, to a mixed glass at every meal, and sometimes more. One rainy evening he was left blessedly alone in the house with his mother, while his father and friends were off doing something mysterious. Narcissa had shown him how to cook up a shot of heroin that night. That was the start of his real downward spiral. Draco would never have called himself addicted to morphine, it was just handy. Heroin addicted him. Heroin became his goddess. By the time fifth year started, there was no way Draco could manage without it. For the first time, he took his drug use to school with him. He was very careful at the beginning, only shooting up when he was alone in his dorm room, but slowly as the first weeks dragged on, he stopped caring if someone else was in the room, his gear always on him. That was a bad idea in general. He could be expelled for just having gear, and he would be expelled if he was caught with the heroin itself, but he didn't care. His grades were slowly dropping, he'd totally abandoned Crabbe and Goyle, who could barely get to class without him, he stopped eating. His hair, normally so tidy, so sleek, hung in his face, knotted. He'd forgotten to get it cut over the summer, it was really too long. His skin should have been a nice glowing pale, but it had sunk into a dull pallor. His eyes were always shadowed, the bags under them darker by the day. His robes, despite the best efforts of the house elves, were constantly crumpled. On the whole, he looked like a totally different boy. He was a totally different boy.

Snape, he knew, suspected something along the line of drugs, and if Snape suspected, Dumbledore knew. Snape had tried to corner him more then once, after class, in the halls, always offering to "talk". Draco sat up, gritting his teeth. He didn't need Snape's pity, or his concern. He, after all, didn't concern himself with much more then when his next owl from his mother would be getting in, and where she would tuck the heroin in this time. Life was a simple thing when you're addicted to heroin.

Draco was putting his gear away when the door to the dorm opened. It was Goyle, blundering, stupid Goyle, looking abashed, eyes locked on his hands, which were clasped in front of him.

"Hey Draco."

"Yeah, Goyle?"

"Are you mad at us? At me and Crabbe?"

Draco was almost touched by the worry in Goyle's voice. Rather, he would have been touched if he hadn't been sickened.

"Why would I be?"

"Well, you know, you haven't been talking to us, and you're not making fun of those Gryffindors like you always do. The others, they think you've gone crazy. Quidditch is starting soon, and you haven't even gotten your broom out and we all thought..." There was a long pause and Goyle stared at his feet, "We thought that you'd be captain."

Draco frowned. He hadn't been making fun of Potter and Weasley? He hadn't noticed. The others, Draco knew, meant the rest of his house. They thought he was crazy? Why in the world would he want to be Quidditch captain? Why would he want to play Quidditch in the first place?

"Right. Well, I'm not mad at you. I'll work on that Gryffindor thing, and that Quidditch thing." His voiced sounded falsely cheerful to his own ears.

Goyle seemed relieved. "I knew you weren't crazy. You're a Malfoy."

Draco nodded, eyes clouding, wanting to inform Goyle of the long line of totally insane Malfoys, which included his father. Something made Draco think Goyle wouldn't quite understand that, though, so he didn't say anything. Squinting at the window and then back at Goyle, he brushed his hair out of his face, almost absentmindedly, and stood. "Since I'm awake, want to walk with me to breakfast?"


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter shifted in his seat and stared at his breakfast. For some reason he was feeling sick and skittish, and he had no idea why. It could have been because he had spent a whole school year without Quidditch, on top of a summer off his broom. Harry was really worried he had lost his knack, and would get kicked off the team. That was a totally irrational fear, but he had it nonetheless. Then there was the paranoia that Voldemort was lurking behind every corner and in every shadow, and that was a rational fear. Of course, his nerves could be caused by the fact he had an exam in Potions and hadn't studied as hard as he should have.

Perhaps, though, the cause of the skittishness it was something closer to home. Something like a little disturbance in the fabric of his world. A rip in the corner called Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy had been oddly absent and silent the whole three weeks they'd been at school. That was a first. Harry let his eyes drift over to Malfoy's seat at the Slytherin table, filled for the first time since school started. There was something very different about the way Malfoy looked. He was always so put together, so slick, in a 40's playboy kind of way, his hair perfect, his sneer unwavering. Now, however, he looked as if a strong breeze might throw him over and scatter him to the four winds, getting dull white chunks of Malfoy in everyone's food and all over the walls. Even weeks of living in the cupboard under the stairs hadn't left Harry looking that near-dead. But it wasn't cupboard-living that had left Malfoy looking like that. It something Harry couldn't put his finger on.

"Ron? Notice anything weird about Malfoy lately?" Harry elbowed Ron, who was deep in conversation with Dean about muggle girls.

Ron glanced at the Slytherin table. "What, you mean besides the fact he's an evil git? He looks trashed." Ron suddenly turned with more attention. "Funny I didn't notice it before. He looks like utter hell!"

"You'd've thought he'd be prancing around like he owned the place with You-Know-Who back. This is the first time I've seen him out of class at all." Hermione mused, having been drawn out of her book by Ron's gleeful voice.

"He hasn't said a single word to us, hasn't tried to get us in trouble, hasn't done anything." Harry frowned, "And he's said nothing about Cedric. Is this some new plot of Voldemort's?"

"What's that? Turn Malfoy into a junkie?" Ron was still smirking.

"A junkie? I thought he might not be sleeping because he was out all night terrorizing muggles." Harry frowned a bit more. Truth be told, that was kind of the look Malfoy was sporting.

"Well, maybe. But one of Charlie's friends got into drugs after he got out of Hogwarts." Ron said, dismissivly, "Freddy Warble. He was in Ravenclaw, got a really job in the Ministry after he graduated here, and the pressure was too much. Started with pot, moved on to coke, and ended up in some muggle rehab with a serious heroin addiction. I hear he's a councilor now." Ron gave Hermione a pointed look as if to say that was probably her fate as well. "But you two aren't seeing the point, are you?"

"Is there one?" Hermione snapped, glaring back at Ron.

"If he's doing drugs, we can catch him, and get him expelled!" Ron was almost bouncing up and down, much like a Japanese school girl over the next episode of some girlie cartoon.

"And how are we going to do that?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know yet, I'll think of something. Oh this is bloody brilliant." Ron dreamy grin spread from cheek to cheek.

"Yes, well, I was just thinking, our first match is against Slytherin, and Malfoy doesn't look like he's in any condition to play. It wouldn't really be fair." Harry tried to ignore the little voice in his head that was actually worried about Malfoy. The whole thing was throwing Harry off. It was almost as if he didn't know what to do without Malfoy insulting him every three seconds. It was as if something had been removed from his life. Harry started. He thought he had just thought about Malfoy as being part of his life. Harry had to grudgingly admit, he was. No one else ever fought with him, no one ever didn't care he was the Boy Who Lived. At least, no one his age.

"Harry?" Ron poked Harry in the forehead with a cob of corn. "Harry are you with us?"

"What? Yeah, sorry?" Harry tried to smile at Ron, wondering how long he'd been staring at the back of Malfoy's head.

"I was just saying that Slytherin cheats plenty, and it's perfectly fair that Malfoy was dumb enough to let himself go like that. We're going to clobber them!" Ron was almost dancing, and Harry nodded, his eyes drifting slowly back to that suddenly ratty head of painfully blond hair.

***

Draco knew paranoia came with the territory of a drug user, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching the back of his head. It was probably just his imagination. It could be, of course, the fact that Goyle and Crabbe were on either side of him, grunting as they ate, making Draco feel like he had two very dumb bodyguards. Then again, that was the service they had both provided since first year, so he should have been used to it. But a few weeks in isolation made it more painful to have his space invaded. If he could only convince them that he didn't need them to walk him to Potions. He was starting to feel the pressure of the world closing in on him, and needed something to mellow him out, he needed some time alone.

While his mind was elsewhere, a hand with long, bony fingers had been creeping slowly towards his arm, and it suddenly attacked. Draco gave it a dirty look before forcing a smile up at Pansy Parkinson. If it meant getting Pansy's hand off his arm, Draco would very willingly do just about anything. The girl had been after him since First Year, and he hadn't minded, but lately the idea of girls wasn't half as appealing, and the idea of kissing Pansy in a dark corner was making Draco sick. Girls didn't hold a candle to his goddess. Heroin was perfect, Heroin never simpered, Heroin was never petty.

The feeling of being watched was back again, and Draco couldn't take it anymore. He snapped around, looking for whoever it was that had the nerve to stare at him, and was startled to find himself looking across the Great Hall, right at Harry Potter. Even through those ugly glasses, Draco's eyes caught on Potter's brilliant green ones, and for a second, it was as if the world was reduced, the way he saw when he was cooking up. Just as suddenly as it started, the feeling shattered when Potter turned his head quickly away. Draco was mildly amused to see what looked like Potter blushing. Then again, his own ears felt a little pink. He turned back to Pansy, and resigned himself to dealing with her, at least until he could get away.

***

What was I thinking? Harry fumed, trying to keep his face bent over his food so no one would see the fact he was beet red. I was staring at Draco Malfoy, and then we had a moment. It was straight out of a trashy romance novel, the kind Aunt Petunia loved, "and their eyes met over a sea of people, and they both felt the tugging of their hearts" or some such rubbish. Only this was Draco Malfoy, and Harry would never admit to tugging on his heart. Admit to it? Oh bugger, his heart had tugged, hadn't it? And over Malfoy, of all people. Very suddenly Harry wanted to do nothing more then be curled up in his bed with a teddy bear, avoiding the world. 1


	3. Chapter 3

"Malfoy, you are late." Snape's voice, which was never sharp with him, could probably have cut through metal.

Draco had thrown off Crabbe and Goyle and run back up to his dorm for a pick-me-up, and the result was that he was nearly ten minutes late to class.

"Yeah, sorry." Draco barely gave his Head of House a glance as he went to his seat. Keeping up with Snape's expectations was too much effort these days.

"This is the third time in a row. Ten points from Slytherin, and a detention, Mister Malfoy." Snape barely flinched when taking points from his favorite student. Draco was almost amused, it normally pained him to take points from Slytherin at all, especially in front of Gyrffindors.

As Snape's attention went back to the class in general, Draco got out his things, and started to not take notes. Rather he sketched, surreal little scenes that should have been filled with death and destruction, but weren't. It seemed to Draco that his father's influence was wearing off.

Across the room, Harry had to keep jerking himself out of watching Malfoy draw. Something was very wrong with him.

"Snape just gave Malfoy detention. Be still my heart." Rom looked misty eyed.

"Snape suddenly catching your fancy, Ron? Didn't know you swung that way." The words were out of Harry's mouth before he reviewed them, and for a split second, it was very amusing to see Ron's face. Then he instantly felt bad. "Erm, sorry, I had to say it."

"That was below the belt, Harry." Hermione hissed from the other side of Ron.

"I said I was sorry! I don't really think you're gay, Ron, you know that, right?" Harry's voice was probably a little less soft then it should have been.

"Is there something Mister Weasley would like to share with us all, or can the rest of us get back to work?" Snape was quite suddenly breathing on the back of Harry's head.

Harry cringed. "Erm, yes, well, I was telling a joke, sorry." Ron looked murderous at that.

"Well, you can tell me that joke while you serve detention, Potter, and ten points from Gryffindor. Get back to work. On second thought, I ought to save you from the amorous advances of Mister Weasley. Potter move over next to Mister Malfoy. I assure you, he has better taste." Snape swept his robes behind him and swished back to the front of the room. Harry, his face red, tried to catch Ron's eye to apologize, but Ron was glaring in the other direction. Even Hermione didn't meet his eye as he gathered his things and plunked them next to Malfoy.

There was a silence for a few seconds before Harry snapped, "What, no comments?"

Draco's head came up as he looked at Harry with a bit of confusion. "Why're you over here?"

"I can't believe you didn't hear that just now." Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Hear what?" Draco's eyes followed suit.

"What's wrong with you? What have you done with Malfoy?"

"What in the world are you talking about, Potter?"

"I don't get you." Harry looked grumpy. "Four years of constant fighting, and suddenly...nothing. Don't tell me you've seen the light."

"Ever think I might be busy?" Draco shrugged and returned to drawing.

"Busy doing what? Shooting up in the boy's loo?" Harry felt stung for reasons he didn't really understand.

Draco froze. "I never shoot up in the boys bathroom, only in my dorm room and empty classrooms."

"You're...serious."

With a compulsion that bowed to neither rhyme or reason, Draco jerked the sleeve of his robe up and thrust the underside of his forearm under Harry's nose. He should have enjoyed Harry's reaction, a mix of horror and disgust, but for some reason, he just felt sad and pathetic.

"How...how could you?"

"I'll teach you to cook up a hit if you want." Draco forced his drawl back into his voice, but it sounded rusty.

Harry's eyes narrowed again. There was a long pause before, "What's it like?"

"Heroin?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ever had sex, Potter?"

"What?! No! I mean...no."

Draco chuckled, "Well, take the feeling of flying, then. You know, the rush. Then multiply it by a hundred. You're not quite close to heroin. Why? You want to try?"

Harry felt his conscious rip. Draco Malfoy was not to be trusted. Ron was very mad at him. Draco sounded very sure of himself. Ron was very mad at him. The fifteen year old boy in Harry took over. "Yeah."

"Well, well, who would have thought. Fine. After class."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Draco gave another quick word to Crabbe and Goyle and sauntered out of the classroom without a backwards glance. Harry gave one pleading look in Ron and Hermione's direction, but Ron was still refusing to meet his eye. That set Harry's shoulders, and he followed Draco down a deserted hall.

Draco suddenly stopped, glancing up and down the hall before opening the door and sliding in, pulling Harry after him by the arm. As soon as Harry was in the room, he closed and locked it. Harry started to feel a little nervous about being locked in a room with Draco Malfoy.

Draco noticed the little looks Harry was giving the room. "Want to back out?" He asked as he sat down in the middle of the totally empty room and started getting out his gear, his back to a large pillar.

"No." Harry sat across the candle from him, and watched as Draco tapped a small amount of powder onto the spoon, and mixed it with water, holding it over the candle to heat and mix. Harry was amazed at the ease with Draco did the whole thing, filling the syringe and putting it down.

Then he started to unbuckle his belt. Harry's eyes flew wide open, and his face turned white, then red. Draco started laughing. "Just need the belt, Potter. Around your upper arm, hold it tight with your teeth." He showed Harry how to do it right and picked the syringe back up.

"Popping or mainlining?" He asked.

"Erm...What?"

"Never mind. I'll start you on mainlining." Draco's smile turned a little wicked.

"I don't know. What do you do?" Harry's fingers were starting to tingle.

"Mainline."

"Oh. Ok." Harry gave his arm over to Draco, who tapped up a vein, and with one last glance at Harry, for the final ok, plunged the needle into his arm, and pumped him full of heroin.

Harry didn't notice Draco pull the needle out of him, didn't notice Draco change the needle and cook up his own hit, all Harry noticed was that the world was suddenly a very wonderful place. Everything was slightly fuzzy and warm and beautiful.

"Oh my God." He managed to sputter.

Draco had the same sloppy grin on his face. "Yeah, I know."

"Why the hell didn't I find this sooner?"

"No bloody clue. So, you're liking it."

"Malfoy, you're my new best friend."

"Gee, thanks, Potter, that's sweet."

There was a long pause, perhaps half an hour, while both boys relished the euphoria. Then Harry opened his mouth.

"Do you have more?"

Draco rolled to his side, and consulted his watch. "I've got class now, I think. But tell you what, meet me at midnight, in the Astronomy tower."

"Right. I'm...going to go back to the dorm then." Harry managed to get to his feet and stumble out of the room, with a backwards glance at Draco.


	4. Chapter 4

Ron Weasley was a very worried boy. He had, of course, been mad at Harry before, over much more important things then having Harry suggest he might be gay in front of Snape and the Slytherins. But this time something was different. It had been days, and Harry didn't seem to care that Ron had been ignoring him. He seemed to suddenly not care about anything at all. And Ron suspected Harry was spending large amounts of time with Draco Malfoy.

"If Malfoy's gone and done something to Harry, I'll kill him. I'll strangle the little fucker and chop him into little bits, and leave the bits in little jars in Snape's office, and-"

"Ron!" Hermione's voice cut him off abruptly. They were sitting in front of the fire in the common room, Hermione surrounded by books, doing her work, Ron surrounded by books, plotting to kill Malfoy. "If you're so worried, go and find Harry and talk to him!"

"Right. Well, it's not that I'm worried, really, it's just..." Ron trailed off and sighed. "I'm going insane. I'll go look for him, then?" Getting to his feet was much harder then it should have been, his pride wanted him to stay sitting and let Harry be the one to find him. But Ronald Weasley was a true friend. If there was something wrong with Harry, he'd find him and help him.

The night was already chilly as Ron prowled around, looking in all the places he figure he'd find Harry, and finding him in none of them. With a sigh, he turned his feet towards the Astronomy Tower. He had no idea why Harry would be there, but it was about the only place in Hogwarts he hadn't checked.

The normal sounds of the Tower were emitting from the lower levels, and blushing, Ron made his way past niches of couples, some of whom were too intent on each other's mouths to even glance up at him. At the top, he heard a different kind of sound coming from the actual Astronomy room. It sounded like two low voices talking, and one of them was Harry's. Without knocking, Ron opened the door and looked in, and his heart froze.

The room was lit by a few flickering candles, Harry's Invisibility Cloak thrown over a chair, Harry was sitting on one side of a central candle, facing the door, and despite only seeing his back, Ron knew the person facing Harry was Malfoy.

Harry's eyes snapped towards the door as it opened, and Ron could see a sickening dullness to them, could see his sleeve rolled up, could see the needle. Ron's world came crashing down on his head. He slammed the door and fairly flew down the stairs and out of the Tower. His heart had started working again, and it was pounding in his chest like a jackhammer. Hows and whys were spinning in his mind. That wasn't Harry sitting there, shooting up with Malfoy, that couldn't be Harry.

Hermione took one look at Ron's face, and knew something terrible had happened. Standing slowly, she asked, "Did...did you find Harry?"

"Who?" Ron snapped, his voice shaking bit.

"Harry?"

"I don't know a Harry, sorry." There was a definite crack in his voice now, and tears were starting to well in his eyes. With a furious swipe at his cheek, Ron stomped up to his room without another word.

Hermione sat, hard. Her hands were unable to keep a hold on the book she was reading, and it slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud. She was strangely calm, trying very hard to figure out a reason for Ron's words.

Harry burst into the Common Room, panting slightly, looking absolutely wild with panic.

"Ron. Where's Ron?" He asked, brokenly.

"Harry, what's going on? What did he see?" Hermione asked, honestly afraid of Harry for the first time in her life.

"Where the -hell- is Ron, Hermione?!" Harry exploded, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"Let me go!" Hermione's voice was shrill.

Harry did, and as he let go, he seemed to lose his will to stand. He slid slowly to the floor, shaking violently. "Where...is he?"

"Oh Harry, what have you done?" Hermione stared at the pile of Harry at her feet, not noticing that the entire common room had dropped what they were doing to watch.

Harry seemed to pull himself together, and he got back to his feet. "'Mione?"

Hermione sighed and sat back down in her chair, burying her face in her hands. "Your dorm, where else?"

Harry nodded and hurried into the dorm. Seeing Ron sprawled across his bed, he hesitated before approaching. Ron seemed to be doing homework, which just made Harry more nervous because it was a rare sight.

"Ron?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Ron, we have to talk."

"No, you have to go away. I don't know you, Harry." Ron stopped writing and turned around, "I don't know someone who would do -that- with -him-. With -Malfoy-, Harry." He turned back around, "And I don't want to know that person, Harry, so go away."

"Ron, you have to promise me you're not going to talk about this! We could get expelled!" Harry was rubbing at his scar, a new nervous habit he'd picked up.

"Go away."

"Ron, please!" Harry reached out a hand to touch Ron's shoulder and felt Ron jump away as if he'd been burned.

"I won't say a word, you stupid arse. Now get the hell away from me." The look on Ron's face made Harry's insides curl. He looked totally disgusted.

Harry's hand went to his scar again and he nodded. "Thank you."

Ron said nothing, just turned and went back to his work. Harry stood in the uncomfortable silence for a few moments and when he couldn't handle it anymore, he left.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry paced back and forth in the abandoned classroom he always met Draco in. He was already in his Quidditch robes, but he and Draco were going to shoot up one last time before the game. Or Harry thought they were. Draco was a no-show. Harry was about to start without him. Despite the weeks that had passed, he had never actually cooked up without Draco, but damnit, he knew how. With a slightly shaking hand, he got the stuff out.

Harry tapped what he thought was about the right amount of powder onto the spoon, mixed it with the water and moved it over the flame. He nodded firmly and got the syringe out, filled it and rolled up his sleeve.

One taste and he knew he'd probably screwed up. It was too intense, to deep. He didn't feel himself fall back, hit the floor. His head thumped on his bag, a lucky chance. Air just didn't want to get into his lungs, his body wouldn't stay still. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, and he forced them shut rather then watch the insane spinning of the world. He was cold, so very cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Draco was running so late it wasn't funny. Malfoy's were never late for anything, but here he was, running through the halls to meet Harry Potter before a Quidditch game against Gryffindor, and he wasn't sure what should be upsetting him the most about it all. The fact he was late, the fact he was late to a game, or the fact that he was on his way to do heroin with Harry.

As he burst into the room he knew something was wrong. Harry was twitching on the floor, face white, lips turning blue, eyes screwed shut.

"Oh Merlin. Oh Harry, you giant prat." Draco spun on his heel, racing for the infirmary or any professor he happened to pass on the way.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was sobbing. It was almost more then Ron could take. He was tapping his foot and gnawing on his thumbnail, worried out of his mind. It was, of course, his fault. He'd known. He'd had a chance to talk to Harry about it, but he'd blown it. It was over. Harry was in a coma and it was all his fault.

And of course, Malfoy's fault too. Mostly Malfoy's fault, when he stopped to think about it.

"Bloody Malfoy dragging innocent people into the muck with him. I'm going to kill him. I'm so going to kill him. Dead." Ron muttered.

"Oh, Ron. Shut up. Dumbledore will deal with Malfoy, it's Harry I'm worried about. He looked so white." Hermione was biting her lip, looking quite pale herself.

"Sure Dumbledore will deal with him. I hope he kills him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yes, Professor, the heroin was mine. I take responsibility for that. But I'm not going to tell you where I got it from." Draco scowled at Professor Dumbledore, who sat across his desk, looking more grave then Draco had ever seen him. He supposed the fact that the hope of the free wizarding world was lying in a coma in the infirmary might make the Headmaster a bit unhappy.

"Master Malfoy, I really must know. This is quite serious. We don't have cures in the wizarding world for the diseases of the muggle world, Master Malfoy, and anything that involves a needle is a high risk. I can't allow my students to threatened by this. I must know where you obtained this substance."

"I'm not talking." Draco was suddenly frantic. He needed a hit, he needed to protect his mother, he needed to keep this from his father.

"Then I'm sorry, but I will have to expel you." Dumbledore looked as sorry as he sounded, his normally twinkly eyes dimmed.

"What?! You can't expel me! My father will kill me!" Draco was on his feet, his face flushed, heart pounding.

"I've already sent an owl to your father, Master Malfoy, I expect he'll be here any moment." Dumbledore stood, and almost as if on key, Lucius Malfoy threw the door to Dumbledore's office open.

"Dumbledore, explain that ridiculous owl this instant." He growled before seeing Draco standing in front of Dumbledore's desk. His son was obviously distraught, panting, wild eyed.

"Lucius, thank you for coming. As to the owl, your son found Harry Potter suffering from an overdose of heroin that he admits to being the owner of. Harry Potter is in the infirmary in a coma, and at the moment Madam Pomfry isn't sure he will come out of it. As Draco will not tell me where he obtained the drug, I'm being forced to expel him." Dumbledore sounded firm.

Rather then even attempt to defend Draco, Lucius spun and hit Draco across the face. Sounding as if he was about to explode, he snapped at Dumbledore, "I have no son. No son of mine would be so foul a rat as this."

"Now Lucius, let's not be hasty-" Dumbledore started.

"Of course not. I will take Draco home now." The look in Lucius' eyes eyes scared Draco more then he'd ever been scared, and he threw a desperate look at Dumbledore before his father dragged him from the office by the back of his shirt. Dumbledore moved as if to stop Lucius, but knew it was somewhat pointless to stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was swimming, which was kind of odd, as he'd never been to the ocean. Somehow, he didn't need to breathe under the water, he just floated. Past fishes and coral reefs and a great big whale. It was as if he was swimming through a children's book about ocean life. Which really was the only idea he had about the ocean, so that could explain it.

Quite suddenly he was being forced up, to the surface, and he had this feeling of dread, as if hitting the surface would destroy everything beautiful. He crashed through the top of the water, bellowing, thrashing.

And was staring into the face of Madam Pomfry.

"Oh thank goodness! Professor Dumbledore! He's awake!" She started waving her wand over him, checking his pulse and brain waves and lungs. She refused to answer questions till he was properly checked out. Finally, on her way to get Professor Dumbledore, she looked at him sternly and snapped,

"If you -ever- scare me like that again, Mr. Potter, I will bring you back with a much stronger shock then that."

"Where's Draco?" Harry yelled desperately at her back.

"Mr. Malfoy? He's been expelled. He left with his father his morning." Giving him an odd look, she continued on her way, leaving Harry feeling a large chunk of ice in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was ice cold, the middle of winter, and a lone figure sat at a apparently deserted train station, waiting for the train to take him to London. What he was going to do there never really crossed his mind.

A black eye, split lip and a wicked welt across his cheek, obviously created by a whip were the least of the wounds Draco was nursing. He was rather sure Dumbledore knew what Lucius would do to him, besides cast him out of the house and break his wand. His mother had been tearful, but hadn't been able to stop Lucius from beating then throwing him out. Literally.

And as he lacked a wand and money, he took the bag his mother had packed for him and tramped to the local train station in the village at the foot of Malfoy Manor. His mother had snuck some prime heroin in the bag, so at least he was ok for now. He just needed to find a place to stay and a job. Being a muggle couldn't be that hard, could it?


End file.
